Play, says Raven

7 Crows, a Secret Never To Be Told
7 Crows, a Secret Never To Be Told


Last Thursday night, I dream of Raven.

He arrives out of a red gash in the earth.  A hillside, the earth, cut open with an ax, a large square piece flying away like chips of wood from a chopped tree.

Out he flies.  He doesn’t look like Raven.  He looks like a red parrot.  In the dream I try to give him to my husband.  But no, Raven claims me instead, flips back his parrot disguise like a cape and looks me level in the eyes.

Tells me, Play.

Then he hops onto my shoulder.  He should feel heavy, sitting there, grinning and clacking and gurgling at me.  My body is prepared to feel weight tipping my balance sideways.

No.  No weight.  Play has no weight.  Play is feather and cloud and dance.  Play is all Raven.

I wake.

I am not playing enough.  I have been much too serious the last few weeks, and have forgotten play.  I have slipped back into my old pattern of duty and work.  A grim perfection of doing what needs doing before I allow myself time to do what I love–write and draw and imagine and read.

No wonder I have been waking each morning grouchy and out of sorts with the world and my life.  I choose and move myself out of this mood each morning.  I remind myself that happiness is a choice, and that I choose happiness, love, and joy in my life.

I have been forgetting to add that I also choose play, fun, and laughter.  I do get to these sometime during each of my days, but not enough.  Not soon enough and not for long enough.

I shouldn’t have to be fighting my way through to happiness each morning, but I have been.

I shouldn’t be allowing duty to push love aside.

I shouldn’t be making my writing and drawing take second place in my life.

This is the wrong place for me to be, deep in this old pattern.  I thought it was gone, that I had let it go.  Apparently it was still running, underground.

What is different this time is that I keep choosing away from this pattern.  I notice how I feel, and I shift myself back to where I want to be.  What I have not been seeing is the core belief running the old pattern.

I grew up learning that duty come first before play, before pleasure, before happiness and love and joy.  This rule is the core of my beliefs and expectations about life and the world.  Raven is telling me that it is time to change this, duty is no longer who I am.

I am love, joy, and happiness.  I am play and fun and laughter.  I am not only meant to choose these things.  I am meant to be these things.  As long as I hold my belief of duty as my core, I cannot be the things I am meant to be and made to be.

Raven is hopping about on the desktop where I am writing.  Yes, I am getting it, and he is happy about that.

So, how do I transform this old core pattern into the new pattern I choose?  And how do I make this change stick?

Raven is not only play.  He is transformation.  He is the one I ask.

Present attention to my life.  An open heart.  Unlimited love for myself and my world.  Clear focus on what I want and what I am choosing.  Know I create both myself and my world.  Now, choose.

Know.  Trust.  Choose.  Create.  Repeat as necessary.

Raven tips his head and clicks his beak at me.

I know this.  I have been learning it, and writing and drawing it.  Over and over this comes into the words and images that flow through me.  Thank you, Raven, for reminding me, and for teaching me that this process is for all I wish to create, including recreating the core of me.

I choose the core of me is always love, unlimited and unconditional.  I choose to know that from this flows joy, happiness, play, fun, laughter.  When I love, there is no need for duty.

The song playing on the music station right now is Here Comes the Sun.  I hear you, Universe and Raven.  When I choose I am love, my light shines like the sun.

I choose I am love, then I get to play with what I love.  Write and draw what I love.  And Raven, you are welcome to come along and play too.  Bring your crayons.  I have lots of paper.  We can create a world.

Let's talk.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.